Today at work, 7th & 8th graders listed to a presentation called Ryan’s Story. Ryan committed suicide when he was in 7th grade. Ryan’s dad, John Halligan, told his story to the students and staff. It was raw, emotional, and moving. When he opened his speech, Mr. Halligan said there is no greater pain than the loss of a child. He said he hoped no adult in the room knew that pain. I looked at the floor and sunk into my seat, hoping no one would look at me with their pity eyes, and if they did, I didn’t want to see it.
Other than that moment, I “enjoyed” his presentation. Mr. Halligan is a fantastic speaker. He speaks of son with such pride and emotion. He speech comes off with a poetic feel. His word are honest and true. It is a harsh reality for some of these kids, bullying does have consequences. The words they use, both in person and via a screen, have lasting effects.
Some of the kids get emotional during the speech. Mr. Halligan hold no punches. He tells the kids exactly how he felt. How he wanted to drive to the bully’s house and “beat the heck out of him.” How his daughter was the one who found Ryan and hasn’t been the same since. How when students bully others, they are also bullying someone family.
Two students were sitting in the back row. One was visibly upset so I left to take him to a teacher and classroom he felt safe in. When I got back I sat with the other student who later asked if he too could leave. I walked him to the same room and returned to the auditorium for the rest of the presentation. I knew it was almost over so I stood in the back and waited. As I stood there I watched the picture slideshow playing behind Mr. Halligan.
The slideshow had been playing through his entire speech, but I was so focused on his words and making sure these student were okay that it never hit me. The only way he will ever see his son again is through those pictures. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I had to walk away. I had to remove myself from the situation. So I went in the faculty room, allowed myself to cry, and pulled it back together enough to return my classroom at the end of the day.
I don’t know the pain of losing a child to suicide, but I do know the pain of losing a child. I can empathize with the constant need to fill that hole in your heart. The constant need to remember your child and make sure others remember too.
These are the moments I don’t prepare for. I can’t prepare for. The “club” of loss parents of made up of different stories and different situations, but the cost of membership is the same. Like Mr. Halligan, I will only see Stella & Joy again in pictures and in my dreams. Our paths in life our so different, but our grief is so similar. The grief of a parent mourning their child, no matter how many years have gone by, is never ending. It changes and comes at different times and in different ways, but the pain is still there. Just as Mr. Halligan give his speech with pictures of his son behind him, I will now go to bed with pictures of my daughters across from me. Because pictures are all I have.
For more information about Ryan and John Halligan, please visit their site, ryanpatrickhalligan.org